In an earlier post, I wrote about the prevalence of small, intricate, yet rather simple patterns in Debussy’s Clair de lune.

Over the last couple of days I have been captivated by Open Studio’s The Major Scale in 8 Ways. It is a summary of basic ways to practice major scales, as taught by the inimitable Barry Harris in his Workshop Video.

The 8 ways in Open Studio’s video (in all cases as successions of single notes):

  • linear (e.g. the C major scale)
  • thirds (e.g. C E, D F on the way up and E C, D B on the way down)
  • triads (e.g. C E G on the way up and C A F on the way down)
  • (7th) chords (e.g. D F A C up, F D B G down)
  • thirds w/half-step approaches to the first note (e.g. on the way up, the third C E would be preceded by B; on the way down, by Eb)
  • triads w/half-step approaches (same methodology as described for thirds)
  • chords w/half-step approaches (same methodology as described for thirds)
  • pivots - in the video only 7th chords are demonstrated (e.g. C followed by E G B below that C, as opposed to simply playing the broken chord up), but Barry Harris gives more comprehensive exercises.

The approaches seem immediately fruitful and musical, and connect directly to David Baker’s How to play bebop 1 (described in the same earlier post).

While practicing in these 8 ways, additional patterns present themselves (particularly during the pivots) — it is clear that there are more than just 8 ways to practice the scales. This reminds me again of the ultimate basis of music in the organization of patterns. The patterns are not discernible on the surface, but on deeper analysis must always be there, and certainly had been for the creator.

John Cage, aleatoric music, and G-d’s symphony aside, at creation, all music is intention and pattern; or, as Bill Evans said, at least at the patterns will have had to have been learned at some point.

Phenomenology

There is a perfection of hearing a particular performance of Debussy’s Clair de lune; one need not be aware of any music theory, of any symbolism (that the physical experience of hearing this music is “perfection” can, of course, be debated, but let us ignore that argument and take this perfection as given).

When there is a chair in front of me, and I see that chair, I experience that chair directly.

When there is a chair in a picture, or the word “chair” written somewhere, I experience the symbol, and then I make an additional connection between that symbol and “chair-ness.”

The physical/visual experience of a chair is direct; the symbolic experience is indirect, mediated by the symbol.

In realizing and appreciating the patterns in Debussy’s work, I have “reverse-engineered” the mathematical perfection of the work — which is distinct from the physical, phenomenological experience of a particular performance of this work.

I (happen to) have the “software packages” needed to understand such perfection; and thus, when I am introduced to the brief statement of 8 ways to practice a major scale, I can immediately appreciate not only the mathematical perfection of these simple combinations, but also the fact that such practice must bear the fruits of physical/phenomenological musical perfection.

Another person might not have those same “software packages” installed, which are required to appreciate Debussy’s Clair de lune on the symbolic levels of its written representation and theoretical constructs.

However, the ability to reason abstractly (and to appreciate symbolism) is a powerful and creative mechanism.

What makes the language of Bebop so fascinating and so powerful and so alive is partly that it combines mathematical precision and simplicity with the immediacy of stream-of-consciousness physical expression.

I have been unpacking several boxes of books (after a recent move), and determining which of the books will live on a bookshelf, and which may stay in boxes and/or be donated. A book that I had immediately put on a shelf — signaling my intention to one day read it — is Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology of Perception.

Dry-Erase Board

I finally acquired a dry-erase board. It hangs next to my digital piano. On it (for now!) are written the 8 ways (which, as is evident, I have already assimilated) and a list of all 12 keys. My intention is to put a mark next to a key when I have practiced one “cycle of all 8 ways” in that key. Because of my “windy” and distracted nature, this should help me to practice evenly in all keys.

On another section of the dry-erase board is a dependency graph of current tunes I am working on. One edge on the graph is from A Night in Tunisia to Strasbourg St. Denis (shortened as Tunisia and Strasbourg, respectively; incidentally both places). This means that I realized that I should practice the former while practicing the latter. Once again, I hope that this will help me to keep my musical practice organized.

Intention

When interviewing electronic music legend Giorgio Moroder about his pioneering, multi-decade experience, Daft Punk recorded his voice using multiple microphones; when he was talking about his experience in the 1940s, they used a microphone made during the 1940s; when he was talking about the future, they used a microphone built recently; and so on (source).

And that is why they won the Album of the Year Grammy.